


Close Your Eyes & Make A Wish

by innerglow



Series: Matteo and His Beanie Boy <3 [1]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: First Kiss, First Love, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 18:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerglow/pseuds/innerglow
Summary: Inspired by Episode 4: Montag 14:02 and the almost kiss of Freitag 21:00.  This was supposed to be a little drabble, but ended up including the pool scene from Freitag 16:07.This is pure pining!Matteo and nothing but fluff at the end.Enjoy! <3





	Close Your Eyes & Make A Wish

It’s Monday night and Matteo’s staring at his phone, at the last text he sent to David on Sunday. He tries to will a reply to appear, tries to tell himself that just because David didn’t reply, it doesn’t mean anything. And furthermore, he shouldn’t be spending so much time thinking into it, but it’s all that he can do--is think about it. There’s a question mark hanging in his chest and he just wishes he knew where he stood with David. Wishes he could go back into time and tell him that what he wished for on his eyelash, was for him. 

_Only_ him. 

There’s a tight feeling in his chest when he thinks about Friday night, when he remembers Andi’s hands touching his sides, his body a little too close for comfort. It wasn’t anything serious, but it made him feel exposed down to the bones. As though some metaphorical spotlight was suddenly shone down upon him and letting everyone see what he’s tried so hard to deny. And it made him freak out in that narrowing vision, your heart is racing out of your chest and you can’t seem to focus on anything type of feeling. 

He knows it well. 

But there was something different about this feeling on Friday, it landed sharper in his spine--digging a little deeper than ever before. Rolling a joint and easing it away didn’t even help and it always helps. Tuning out the world with a headful of calming music barely worked, but it didn’t stop his mind from spinning, not like it usually does. All he was left with was turning in on himself and stopping everything altogether. His mind, body and soul trying to realign itself into something fashioning ‘okay’. And even after his friends left and the house was quiet, he still wasn’t sure if he resembled anything looking close to it. 

But then there was David cleaning up. 

David who is quiet and charming, cute in an obnoxiously rude way, one that makes Matteo’s heart flip upside down and flutter around stupidly in his chest. David who, for the most part, seemed to be oblivious to that butterfly feeling in his stomach and his lingering stares. David who has a girlfriend. David who walked into his life and made everything in his world do a one-eighty. David who beams sunlight and rainbows anytime he appears in the room. David who could own Matteo’s whole heart if he could only see it calling out for him. David, David, David. 

As if he doesn’t already own him. 

_Shit._

It’s not until Matteo tells him about how everything is fucking him up lately, that the tight feeling in his chest starts to remind him that it never truly went away in the first place. And fuck, the minute those words escape his lips, he wishes he could shove them back down again. He mentally calls himself _a goddamned idiot_ and white knuckles the counter behind him. If he could fashion himself some kind of magical teleportation device out of thin air, he’d disappear from view immediately. And even though he’s still cursing himself, his dumb mouth continues to escape his control and tells David that he didn’t know he had a girlfriend. As if it was any of his fucking business in the first place. As if he didn’t have one of his own. 

_But Sara doesn’t count,_ he thinks.

Then David does what he does best and looks at him sarcastically and asks if he’s talking about Laura? Because _Laura--Laura is not my girlfriend; she’s my sister._ And then suddenly, the tight feeling in Matteo’s chest rubber-bands itself around his throat and climbs up behind his eyes and sets up camp, hot and menacing. He doesn’t know what emotion he feels, but if he had to place it into a category, he would undoubtedly label it something resembling ‘relief’. 

David who looks at him then and takes him in completely--messy hair, glossed over I’m-about-to-cry eyes, neon painted cheeks and smoke-laced lips. He’s not sure what David sees in him, or how he can look like anything he might actually want or need--because Matteo’s not used to being either of those two things in anyone’s eyes. But there’s David and he’s looking at him as if he’s never wanted or needed anything else. And Matteo’s so hungry with is own want, his own need, that he can’t help his wandering eyes from drifting down towards David’s lips. 

It feels like hours go by with them suspended in a slow-motion dance of aching lips reaching for each other. Moving slowly as to not frighten the other, taking their time to make sure it’s what they both want. And they do, they both _want_ so badly. They’re so close, a whisper away and Matteo is swallowing down his racing heart, and they’re there--about to make contact, their lips brushing against each other ever so slightly--until it all ends abruptly. Awkwardly. 

And just like that, the night is over. The moment, _ruined_. 

David made an excuse to leave shortly thereafter, his gentle smile somehow oddly reassuring given everything that had ( _or hadn’t_ ) occurred. Yet, the truth is, Matteo wasn’t really sure what would happen after David closed the door behind him. Wasn’t sure if he’d lost his chance, if it was just a moment come and gone, if come Monday it would all be swept under the rug and long forgotten about. But still, he laid in bed that night and traced his upper lip with his fingers, feather-soft, trying to remember the warmth of David’s breath so close to him. 

**

Saturday came and so did David’s text. _Buongiorno, Luigi._ And it’s accompanied by a picture of plated grilled cheese sandwiches. If Matteo’s heart could swell any bigger, he’d be floating in the _goddamned_ sky--a helium balloon full of those dumb heart-eyed butterflies. And he can’t help himself from replying swiftly, not giving it much thought, not wanting David to wait or wonder if he was (or wasn’t) thinking about him. Because, yes-- _yes_ he was. 

There’s radio silence through the rest of Saturday, and Sunday doesn’t bring any news. He can’t help himself from sending another message, takes half an hour to decide just what the fuck he wants to say. Nothing seems like enough. Either it’s too corny, or it’s repeating what’s already been said. Finally, he decides for a simple OnlyLoversLeftAlive.gif and a text about how he’d spent the night watching the movie and how they should hang out soon. 

David reads them, but he never replies. 

The tightness in his chest returns in the middle of the night on Sunday. His entire weekend has been somehow one-hundred percent focused in and around David. And for a brief and fleeting second, he somehow convinced himself that they were somehow getting closer, that maybe the want in his chest somehow matched the one in David’s. But perhaps, it was just the alcohol talking, maybe it was a mistake in David’s eyes. Maybe he was having second thoughts, maybe he was laying in his own bed right now and wishing he never came to his party. Maybe, maybe, maybe. There’s a thousand of them swirling around Matteo’s mind and he can’t get them to stop. 

He gives up around 2am and gets up to roll himself a joint. When he takes the first pull, it burns in a familiar way and he wills his lungs to hold the smoke for as long as they can--because he just needs a moment of peace. Just needs the feeling in his chest to let up for just a second, just enough to give him some goddamned breathing room, to let him think clearly. 

It’s not until he’s halfway through the joint that he starts to feel the high crawl up the back of his spine in a comforting way. He closes his eyes and sighs into a slouch against the wall at the head of his bed. From there he focuses on his breathing, pulling a breath in and letting it back out evenly and smoothly. Focuses on it until there’s little room for anything else in his stoned brain. And when sleep finally overtakes him, he’s still half sitting--half slumped over, his fingers still clutching the burned out joint. 

**

Monday morning brings a sore neck and still no word from David. Matteo stares at himself in the bathroom mirror and wills himself to find the goddamned balls to put the situation out of his mind--at least for today. Because this David mess is really putting his old Jonas boner to shame, and he once thought that was the worst feeling on earth. Truth is, that wasn’t anything in comparison to what David sparks inside of him. But he does need to focus on other things besides David and his _fucking **beautiful**_ face, things like studying to pass the Abi. 

He’s successful, mostly; he only manages to look at his phone twice the rest of the morning. There’s always that twinge of hope that lodges itself in his throat as he unlocks his phone and quietly wonders if by chance-- _maybe_ David might have finally responded. But there’s never any texts and the hope that swam up his ribcage before he looked, withers and dies within him. It’s replaced by something itching like annoyance, because what game is David playing at? 

It’s not until he’s standing outside with Sara, her voice ricocheting non-stop around them. She’s trying to tell him all the perks and sunshiny reasons why London is the place she wants to move to, as if to convince him that’s also where he wants to go. But he doesn’t want to go to London; couldn’t give two fucks about all of its ‘sunshiny’ benefits. So when she asks where he does want to go, his eyes land on David with Leonie and his mouth answers back automatically-- 

“Detroit.”

It’s funny how he’s never thought twice about this city in his life before David said it. But he’s definitely spent a fair share of his free time looking it up and investigating just what makes it so neat. Maybe it’s the music scene, maybe it’s because there’s a whole ocean and half a country that separates it from Germany. And honestly, whether it be Detroit or The North Pole, Matteo is pretty much set that wherever David is, is where he wants to be. It sounds sickening, even to himself, in his thoughts--but his heart skips a beat and calls him a liar. He loves it. _Loves_ \-- 

David is smiling big and bright and Sara’s voice fades into the background. She’s looking right at him, talking away, but Matteo is looking at David and David is looking at Leonie. They’re so close, but so far. And try as he might, Matteo cannot pitch his ears far enough to catch a sentence of their conversation. He desperately wants to know if they are talking about cheese toasties and movies. Wants to know if David tells everyone that his favorite movie is, Only Lovers Left Alive. Wants to know if Leonie has seen his art book, if her fingers have traced across the bird collage. Wants to know if they’ve almost kissed. Wants to know. Wants to know. Wants to know. 

Before he knows it, before he can even hear his own voice, he feels his lips moving. He’s asking if Leonie and David are together. And Sara turns to look at them, smiles and turns back to face him. 

“Well, Leonie would definitely like that.” 

_But what does David want?_

“And _David_?”, his voice echoes his thoughts.

“That’s what she’s trying to find out right now.” 

_Her and I both_. 

He makes a face and tries to hide the fact that the entirety of his body is on red alert and screaming. Because what if David wants Leonie? What if the almost kiss, the frankenstein sandwiches, and all of these little secret looks have been for nothing? What if he’s left stupid and humiliated at the foot of David’s indecision? 

What if he still moves to Detroit, even if David doesn’t want him? After all, he’ll definitely need that whole damn ocean and half of the US to bury away his damned heartache. 

He spends the rest of his day haphazardly staring at his phone, at the unreplied text message between him and David. Spends the night in some kind of anxiety induced panic where he wonders if he should text him again or if he should just let it be. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t type half a dozen more texts, only to delete them all over again. Lying if he said he didn’t smoke himself out of the rest of his weed stash, just trying to calm his fucking nerves. Lying if he said he didn’t fall asleep listening to the soundtrack of David’s favorite movie. 

**

Tuesday comes and with it comes more or less the same nothing that has followed him like a sick dog since Friday. He wakes with drool on his cheek and regrets for having smoked so much goddamn weed the night before. His mouth is dry, sticky and _fuck_ , what’s that smell? His lips curl up in disgust as he smells his shirt, trying to detect if it’s coming from him or somewhere else. And well, isn’t that just fantastic--he smells just as good as he feels. 

_Groan._

He manages a shower and glosses over the kitchen through breakfast and lunch because it’s just as empty of David as his shelf in the fridge is empty of food. It’s not like he’s hungry much anyways, not with the constant taste of that frankenstein sandwich still hanging in the back of his throat. He could swear he hated it, if it didn’t make his stomach flop over like a pancake with that stupid bubblegum-flavored four letter word. 

_Ugh._

The rest of the afternoon is spent trying to absorb himself into Zelda. Tries to ignore the fact that he’s only playing it because of David. Tries to forget about how he and David were supposed to play it together, before David’s disappearing act. He tries and he tries and he tries. But he can’t ignore the fact that David is in every corner of the game, even swears at one point that Link morphs into David. And he hates himself for it, hates the fact that his stupid heart and its puppy dog love can’t be contained. 

Yea, he’s fucked. So, very, very _fucked_. 

**

It’s Miércoles before he knows it and he chuckles to himself slyly as he tapes the notes he somehow managed to put together around midnight the night before, behind the toilet in his stall. He just spent twenty minutes staring at it, trying to bore whatever knowledge it has into his brain--because he’s gonna need a fucking miracle to pass his Spanish exam. 

A. Fucking. Miracle.

Before he leaves the stall, he glances at his phone and sighs with frustration when there’s still no news from David. At this point, he’s bordering the line of giving up, because it’s been three days and no word at all. And it’s starting to feel like David couldn’t care less about Matteo’s bleeding heart and the mess it made in his kitchen on Friday. 

Starting to feel like maybe Leonie will win this tug-o-war after all. 

\--

Matteo’s not sure if it’s the annoying sound of the ball rolling under his teacher’s foot, or if it’s the way the sun is pouring into the classroom annoyingly, or the fact that he can’t get his legs to stop shaking, or if it’s the question he’s read ten times already and still can’t understand it long enough to form any kind of answer--but he feels that familiar tightness crawl up into his chest and take home in his throat. 

He closes his eyes and tells himself to just breathe, _he’s got this_. But he’s not so convincing, not even to himself and he drops his head to his desk in defeat. He raises his hand for the teacher to see and plots his getaway to the same stall he’d been in earlier. Hopefully, whatever he had written on that paper will hold the answer to at least one of the questions that he can’t seem to answer. 

It takes him approximately twenty-five footfalls to round the corner from his class to reach the bathroom doors and before he can go in, David’s exiting the bathroom. His heart freezes in his chest and there’s something whispering in the back of his head-- _there’s one-there’s one-there’s one_. He doesn’t even have to think about what that means, because there’s a rush of warmth that falls over him when David smiles at him and he knows deep down that maybe he’ll never find the right answers for his Spanish test, but when David looks at him--he has all the answers he needs. 

The exchange between David and him is cut short by some old teacher policing the hallways. He doesn’t want it to end, but David is already half of the twenty-five footfalls back in the other direction. And before he disappears from view, Matteo utters out something--anything, if only to not lose the moment he’s craved so much since Friday. 

“I’m in the mood for cheese toast again sometime.” And it sounds obscene in the quietness of the hallway around them. But they share a last look, an agreeing smile and Matteo knows his message has been delivered clearly. 

**

Studying with Amira could be defined simply as-- _torturous_. For all of her excitement, Matteo greets her with equal amounts of unenthusiastic stares. It’s in these moments that he truly does feel a little sorry that she got stuck with him for studying the Science exams. But what use is studying when the only thing he can concentrate on is the fact that David still hasn’t returned his text. And well, after yesterday--it’s just kind of surprising. Especially after his mention of cheese toast and David’s brilliant sunrise of a smile. 

On that thought, he pulls out his phone and pulls up the message between him and David. He stares at his last texts to David and finds himself getting lost in the image of David’s smile at the forefront of his brain, taking him and his thoughts miles away from the library and the words falling from Amira’s mouth. It’s not until she’s saying his name and snapping her fingers that David’s smile bursts like a bubble and vanishes from his view as his focus shifts back on Amira’s face and down to her henna tattooed hands. 

“Are you still with me, Matteo?”

“Huh?” He mutters, straightening himself. “Yea, that’s disgusting.” 

“Were you even listening?” 

“Yea.” He says, even though it’s a lie. 

She nods gently and continues reading the text that lies in front of her, reading it half to herself and half for Matteo to hear. She’s barely got a whole sentence out of her mouth before something sour starts to crawl its way out of his stomach and up the back of his throat. He’s not entirely sure if it’s because of what he feels for David, or how his mom would react if she knew how he felt, or how Amira can sit before him and display what she believes for all to see and to judge. 

“So, I have a question.” He burps up. 

“Mm?” 

“No offense, but why are you religious?” The words seem innocent enough to himself, but by the way her eyes tear away from the text in front of her and up to him, he can tell he’s wrong. “I mean, don’t get me wrong--we are in 2019. You’re a really intelligent girl, but don’t you find yourself in a contradiction at some point?” 

Amira's eyes are unflinching as she looks at him incredulously, “Since when are _you_ interested in my religion?” 

“I’m not.” He corrects her because he honestly couldn’t give two fucks about her religion--he just can’t stand the fact that religion, in general, tells him he has to be ashamed of how he feels. Of who he’s always been. “I just don’t understand how you can believe in a God, who decides everything.” His mind spins for examples. “A is right, B is wrong. Chicken is right, pork is wrong.” They’re soft examples as he leads up to the real one, “Heterosexual is right, homosexual is wrong. I--I just don’t know…” 

Amira’s expression changes as she shifts position and sits back in her chair. “Okay.” She starts. “So what do you believe in, Matteo?” 

He doesn’t have to think about it, “I believe in Science; the evolution theory.” 

“Ah, the evolution theory…” She repeats back to him and taps her chin in thought. “Have you ever had a closer look at it? Natural selection, what does it say about being gay?”

 _Gay_. 

He feels nervous suddenly. Exposed. “Huh, what?” 

Amira leans in closer to him across the table, “The evolution theory you believe in so much, says homosexuality is a dead end. It says that gays do not bring any progress to this world, as they do not conceive children.” She looks down and then back up at him, making sure to make eye contact, “In fact, they should have been extinct a long time ago. So if they should have gone extinct, why are they still here, Matteo?” 

_Why are you still here, Matteo?_

“Do you think one has a choice?” She questions. “Or is it a mental disease?” 

Matteo’s Mom flashes before his eyes. Maybe the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Maybe he should have gone extinct. God knows he’s wished it a thousand times. 

“What do you think, Matteo?” She bites, her point made. 

And Matteo doesn’t know if it’s just him, but that three letter word hangs between them like a spotlight, as though the shadow of the letters are dancing across his face. Gay. He’s gay. And his chest seizes up with panic because he’s been running from this word for so long, but now it’s bright and piercing. It has him squinting his eyes in a blinding sort of exclamation. His brain is charley-horsing itself on those three letters and what it means and how David is making him connect the dots in a way he’s always been terrified to do before. 

He just wants this to stop. “I’m not thinking about being gay all the time!” 

But Amira looks at him, looks through him. He would have been better off saying he doesn’t think about being a pig all the time. Knows that by him saying that sentence, he’s said all too much and it reads across her face. His lungs seize inside of him and the only relief he gets is by a voice clearing itself behind him. 

Sara. 

Never has he been more thankful for her presence than at this moment. It’s an escape hatch. And he takes it, full speed and without a second thought. 

She’s asking him about Abdi’s party and he honestly had no intention of inviting her, but to clear the air between them, he extends one anyways. To make her happy, to maybe prove to Amira that what she’s thinking is wrong. Trying to prove that his heart doesn’t beat as crooked as he’s made it seem. Trying to somehow convince her that he’s never wanted to be as extinct as she says he should be. Tries to stand in the light of the window to somehow shrug off the shadow of that three letter word. And as he leans in and kisses Sara, tries to convince himself that David’s smile is far from his mind. 

Tries to tell himself that he can fit his heart back into its box and pretend it doesn’t beat wrong. 

**

Before he knows it, Friday is rearing its ugly head and reminding him annoyingly that it’s been a whole goddamned week since the neon party and the almost kiss that he’s been starving for ever since. 

Matteo thinks if he could strangle Jonas, he would, especially at this moment. They were supposed to be setting up for Abdi’s party together, but somehow he’s decorating with Sara and yea she’s helpful--but she also kind of makes him want to stab himself in the eyes with dull pencils. It’s not her fault he’s feeling so frustrated, but he can feel it boiling dangerously close to the surface and he knows it’s not long before he’s gonna blow up. He’s just trying to get through the decorations and he’s hoping Jonas fucking shows before he loses it completely.

But then, maybe he’s already lost it and he just hasn’t accepted it yet. 

It starts with Sara wanting to sit on his shoulders to hang up the numbered balloons. And he doesn’t want to be touched. Doesn’t want her legs around his shoulders, doesn’t want the heat of her body that intimately close to him. The tightness comes again and he’s suddenly warm. Knows it’s happening but does nothing to stop it. Because suddenly, he’s standing by her and she’s trying to wrap her leg over his shoulder and it makes him nauseous. Uncomfortable. 

“Hi,” Leonie says as she walks through the door unannounced. 

Matteo shrugs off Sara’s leg and puts distance between them as he sees David walk through the door right behind Leonie. And yea, this is when he can hear the strain within himself, the popping locks and stressed fragments of himself grinding against each other. There’s so much pressure, it feels like his head is going to explode. 

Leonie hugs him and his skin crawls, because all he can focus on is David and how it’s been days since they’ve actually talked, since he’s actually seen him in the light--up close and real. For days he’s been nothing more than just an unreplied to text. And before that it was the mess in the kitchen, the almost kiss, the almost confession of truths in a sea of lies that they’ve seemed to find themselves drowning in. 

David and him shake hands, both of them looking at each other and then looking away--as if their lips have never been whisper lengths away from each other. As though it never happened. And Matteo feels the pressure build within him even stronger still, feels it swell as a ticking stopwatch gets louder somewhere in the back of his brain. 

He’s not doing well. 

Leonie and David go to put their jackets away and that’s when Sara’s questions and prying really unlock the doors in him that he’s tried so desperately to keep closed. He lashes out, spills the truth-- _he never wanted her here_. He just wanted tonight to be about him and his friends; didn’t want to think about _her_. Didn’t want to think about David. Didn’t want to think about anything else but getting drunk, high and to hopefully escape the hellfire his life is currently. If only for a little while. 

Sara storms off. Leonie comes in just in time to witness her walking off and looks at him accusingly, asks him what he said and he lies again. _Nothing._ And then David walks in and stares at him with those same eyes that see right to the bone of him and he cracks open like an egg on the edge of a pan. He picks up the nearest object he can find and launches it at the wall, sighs loudly and lands himself in the chair behind him. He just needs to close his eyes for a second, just needs to make it all stop. Just needs to feel his breath coming and going, needs to settle the racing heart that threatens to beat its way out of his chest. 

“Everything okay?” David asks, but from his expression, he can probably already tell what Matteo’s answer is going to be. 

“No.” 

They share a look and it seems to say something that neither of them has been brave enough to say out loud, at least not yet. But it says enough, for now, to have Matteo posing a question. 

“Want to get out of here?” It sounds more like a dare than it does a question. 

David contemplates his words, rolls them over and seemingly comes to an answer. “Okay.” 

And just like that, they’re in motion, speeding at the speed of light to some unknown destination on the back of both of their bikes. David’s legs are sure-footed as they push him faster and further ahead of Matteo. And Matteo is reeling with excitement, with a wave of joy running up his spine like a lightning bolt. He smiles as the wind kisses his cheeks, smiles even deeper still when he sees David’s hair blowing in the wind in front of him. He’s pedaling as fast as he can, but just about the time he catches up to David, David turns around and dares him to go even faster. And fuck, Matteo is trying to--if only his long legs and the old bike will allow him. 

They ride for a long time, until they reach the edge of a gate with an old abandoned building just on the other side. David dumps his bike and is up and over the fence in a fluid motion, almost as if he’s not bound to the same force of gravity that everyone else is. David who, peers through the slats in the fence and dares Matteo to follow suit. Unfortunately, Matteo is bound to the earth by gravity and he is decidedly less graceful getting up and over--but he manages all the same. When his feet land on the ground, he turns to look at David who just offers a small smile and nods his head toward the building behind them.

Matteo follows David willingly, even though something inside of him is spooked by the location choice of their afternoon getaway. “Where are we?” 

“It’s a surprise.” David offers playfully. 

“Okay.” 

“Come,” David says, closing in on the place he’d been leading Matteo towards. “Let’s go in there.” He nods toward an old basement window, that is open and bare of glass. 

David hunkers down and under an old door that is propped up against the building. He disappears from view and is only followed by the echo of his feet hitting the ground inside. Matteo doesn’t think about what’s inside, or where they’re going. All he knows is that wherever David is taking him, is someplace he needs to go. So he follows suit and folds himself into a small enough shape to fit through the opening. And when he lands on the ground, he is met with David’s shining sun of a smile and it warms Matteo all the way through. He smiles in return and hopes his moonbeam lips will warm David similarly. 

They turn their flashlights on, David’s from his bike and Matteo’s from his phone. They walk through the darkness in front of them, making out old paint and fixtures around them. David pauses to pick up an old, red sillcock handle and puts it in his pocket. This small gesture makes Matteo’s heart jump endearingly in his chest. Because leave it to David to find beauty in the forgotten things. Things like that handle. 

Like _him_. 

They make their way upstairs, through stairwells and through empty rooms. They find themselves slowly flooded with light and put away their flashlights. And Matteo is thankful for the light, because he can see David clearer. David who still leads the way confidently, as though he’s been to this place a hundred times. Matteo finds himself kicking at the back of David’s foot, teasingly, if only to have David turn around and give him some more of that sunshine he’s been craving all week. “Fuck you.” David laughs, spinning in front of him as he had once daydreamed. 

They make their way through one last room before walking through a door to find a huge room and an abandoned pool. It’s so bright, the sun from outside cascading through all the old busted up windows. It feels holy, feels about as close to God Matteo has ever been. And with David here next to him, he knows he could utter a few amens and for once-- _actually_ mean them. 

“Wow.” They both say, almost in unison. It echos on and on before them and all around them, reverberates off every wall and surface, coming back to circle them both in exclamation points. 

Matteo whistles out and it sounds endless. David whistles and it chases Matteo’s voice through the entirety of the building. It sounds beautiful, their voices, playing tag together throughout the emptiness around them. And it makes Matteo’s chest relax, makes the weight he always seems to carry, dissipate and fall away from him. 

_Wow._

Matteo’s heart races because it feels like this moment is important, as though this place will see a side of him that no one else has ever had the privilege to. And it’ll be at David’s doing. Or undoing. And maybe he used to be scared, maybe he used to cling to the truth that carves its way through his heart, but now--he finds himself under a house of light and for once, he doesn’t feel exposed. 

He feels found. 

David rounds the edge of the pool, reaches the stairs and climbs down one-two, before landing at the bottom of the empty pool. Matteo follows him, his magnet heart pulling him constantly in David’s direction. His eyes leave David long enough to climb down the ladder and land onto the pool’s floor. He’s barely got his breath when he catches a daring look from David, who starts running towards the deep end. And just like before, he finds himself running at full speed, running fast and free towards David--towards everything he’s always wanted, but never thought he could have. 

Of course, David beats him to the edge of the pool, Matteo’s long legs no competition for David’s head start. When Matteo finally reaches the wall, they both turn to press their backs against it as they both let out an exhilarated laugh. 

_Is this what happiness feels like?_

David looks at him and it feels familiar, feels like something matching how Matteo feels. And then David is walking back towards the shallow end. It’s quiet, so quiet. It’s just them, this empty pool and the whole world busy around them. But here, _here_ they’re alone--alone together. 

Matteo cards his fingers along the hanging pool rope above them, let’s his fingers thump against the white buoys. He’s keenly aware of David’s stare, but he’s trying to keep his cool--tries to keep breathing as he watches his hand slide against the rope. They’re halfway to the shallow end, before David is facing him, a playful smile on his lips, as he passes Matteo and heads back to the deep end. It feels like a game and well, _fuck-_ -Matteo is ready to play. 

David is walking backward, his eyes locked onto Matteo’s as he smiles. “We’re actually underwater right now.” Matteo keeps pace with David and motions a few swim strokes, pretending with David, that they’re actually underwater. And then David stops, Matteo, coming to stand still in front of him at the deep end. “That means we actually can’t breathe,” David tells him. “I bet I can hold out longer than you.” 

And there it is. _The game_. 

They stare at each other, smiles whispering across their lips as they both simultaneously draw in a breath of air to hold onto. And when their lungs are full, they’re there, floating together in the underwater of an empty pool. It’s them, their held breaths and their racing hearts. There’s an emotion hanging in the air around them and it’s got a vibration that crawls up the backs of their legs and harnesses itself in their stomachs. From there it pours up into their chests and teases at their aching lungs, but both of them remain stubborn in their will to hold out the longest. 

David steps closer to Matteo and the air around them sparks as they stare at each other, both of them unrelenting in their fight to win at this game. Matteo lurches towards David, trying to startle him, to make him laugh, to make him move. But he doesn’t move, instead, he just smiles with his tightly pressed lips and fuck, Matteo’s mind is running a million miles, his heart going even faster. And before he can think of anything else, David is there, his lips pressing softly against his own. 

The world around them brightens and the hues of every color seem to deepen. It’s as if Matteo’s been an unlit candle this whole time and all he ever needed was light from the right flame. Because now, he’s on fire and burning warm. He feels alive and when David pulls away, it has him blowing out his lungful of air and gasping for more. It’s as if his burning lungs have never taken in air before this moment, as though his veins have just now come alive. 

He’s still reeling from the kiss, from David’s warm lips against his own and what it all means, when David’s voice echos against him. “I won!” David laughs and turns around and walks a few steps back towards the edge of the pool, where he turns back around and smiles happily back at Matteo. 

_God._

Matteo takes a few steps and locks eyes with David. “Rematch.” “Okay.” 

And just like they did before they both take in a mouthful of air, both of them intent on holding out the longest. Except, this time--this time, it’s Matteo who wants. Who needs. Who’s going to return the gesture tenfold and make David know the ache of his heart and how it’s only beat after him since they first locked eyes a few weeks ago. 

Matteo’s eyes trace back and forth from David’s coffee-brown eyes and down to his pale pink lips. The lips that he can still feel burning against his own. The lips he hasn’t had enough of yet, the ones he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. The ones he wants to kiss until he’s old and gray. This thought alone and how sure it is, has a pink line of heat warming across his cheeks, because fuck he’s so done for. And he’s about to expose his heart and all of its wrongness for David to see, he’s about to leave it here at the bottom of this empty pool for only David to have. 

And he’s never wanted anyone else to have it, not in the ways he wants David to have it. 

There’s a second where the air around them thins out and it’s as if the world outside of this building stops moving in its tracks as Matteo’s heart beats fastly inside his ears. He’s on the edge of a beautiful ravine and yea, maybe he’s always been scared of heights, but with David standing there in front of him--he knows he has nothing to fear. 

So he steps closer, his lungs tightening around his held breath and he makes a decision. He chooses. He does what he’s never let himself do before and he musters up the courage to-- _have_. 

And just like that, he does what he’s been thinking about all week, he reaches out and grabs David and kisses him. Their lips meet at full force, with equal parts of urgency and gentleness. Their breaths release against each other’s mouths and it only makes them deepen the kiss. The kiss is in high definition, Matteo’s brain and body completely connected and exploding behind his closed eyelids. 

He’s underwater in an empty pool and learning to breathe for the first time; David’s lips his saving grace. There are parts of him that are falling apart and breaking open, parts of himself he never knew existed and he lets it happen--gives David every key and combination lock. 

_Have it all._

David’s tongue is dancing across his lips and Matteo is opening up. He can taste the heat of his mouth and David’s hands are everywhere. Matteo’s pretty sure if he died right here, he would do so happily. And the thought is burst like a bubble when they hear a dog’s bark behind them, followed by a man’s voice asking them what they’re doing. 

_Falling in love._

And then they’re running, climbing up and out of the pool, through the corridors and down the stairs back to the same window they crawled in from. They’re on the run, but this time, they’re running the same direction--their lips still aching with want for the other’s lips. 

\--

When they get back to Matteo’s flat, there’s no one home and it makes for the perfect kind of evening. They make cheese toast and this time, it’s a little less frankenstein and a lot more eatable. They spend a couple of hours playing Zelda and even longer smoking joints while laying in his bed and talking about life and all of its intricacies. And even longer still, they spend kissing each other. Sometimes it’s soft and delicate, sometimes it’s a little rougher and open-mouthed. 

When darkness creeps in through the windows, they lay side by side and just gaze into each other’s eyes. Both of them just trying to etch every detail of the other’s face into their memory, trying to make sure they don’t miss a single detail. Even in their quietness, they’re comfortable, no words are needed to explain how they’re both feeling. Their eyes say it all. 

Midnight rolls around and David breaks the silence around them. “You have another eyelash there…” He points and just reaches for it and plucks it delicately off of Matteo’s cheek. 

“Can I make a wish this time?” Matteo smiles playfully. 

David returns it and then nods, “Yes.”

“Okay,” Matteo says, his eyes closing. 

He commits his wish, let’s it repeat through his brain and roll over his silent tongue. Knows it to be as true and real as anything could be. And when he opens his eyes, David’s finger and his eyelash are inches away from his lips. He takes a breath and then blows, his eyelash disappearing from David’s fingertip. 

“What’d you wish for?” David questions, his hand reaching for Matteo’s hand, their fingers weaving together. 

“Same thing I wished for last time,” Matteo whispers, smiling gently. 

“To run away?” David’s eyebrow quirks up. 

“That’s not what I wished for last time.” Matteo looks away and up at his ceiling, his answer for the next question David’s about to ask--already begging to be said. 

“Okay,” David laughs. “What’d you wish for last time?”

There’s a beat of silence and Matteo squeezes David’s hand and then turns to stare into his eyes.

“ _You_ ,” Matteo whispers his confession. 

The smile that blooms across David’s lips is one that could rival the most coveted paintings in the world. It’s that _goddamned_ beautiful. And when David’s lips find their way against his, they smile into each other and it feels like coming home. Matteo’s doormat heart chimes against his ribs and it sounds like-- _welcome, welcome, welcome._

He’s not sure what might lie on the other side of tomorrow, but all he knows is that with David by his side, he’ll never be the same again. And he’s okay with that, because-- 

_Fuck_ , he’s never been happier in his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> I might write more of this as we continue into s3. If you'd like to see more, please let me know! Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Also, quick shout out to Jana for giving it a quick read through to make sure it's readable for ya'll. <3
> 
> {Update 7/15/19} I posted an Ep 5 continuation of this: [Is There Light At The End?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19820503)


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